


Moonmen

by Ivansky



Series: rare pair hell [1]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Dubious Consent, M/M, Mild Smut, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 10:16:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14668947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivansky/pseuds/Ivansky
Summary: Two bots with bad coping mechanisms.





	Moonmen

**Author's Note:**

> Set right before Issue #47

It wasn’t difficult to convince Brainstorm back to his quarters, to push that slick, teal chassis flat onto the desk and ease his own spike into the familiar and welcoming heat between the jet’s legs to fuck him stupid with a confidence born out of practise. They’d done this enough times for Getaway to memorize what Brainstorm likes and comfortably exploit the sensitive spots in the jets frame till said scientist turned to putty in his hands. 

“OhgodohgodMm _mfuck_ —!“ Brainstorm jerked forward with a particularly hard thrust, his grip denting the edge of the desk as his life depended on it, wings fluttering prettily.

Getaway had intended to take things slow. Really, he had, but he’d come to learn that with Brainstorm taking things slow was next to impossible - not with the way Brainstorm's hips bucked back with drunken clumsiness to meet Getaway halfway, or with the way he begged so prettily to be stuffed full.

It’s times like these, when Brainstorm’s wrecked so fully the only sounds he makes are those punched out of him by Getaway’s spike every time it thrusted home, that Getaway wished this thing between them was a little different. They were a good match for each other, in his opinion - even if Brainstorm's ego was a hard pill to swallow at times. 

But it wasn’t that easy; there were things about Brainstorm - things he’d done, who he was - that Getaway couldn’t bring himself to forgive, that hurt to even admit. And there were things he’d done in response that’d been downright deplorable. 

But, things were fine now. They’d moved past that. 

One of his servos left Brainstorm’s waist to rest over the expanse of his wings, palming teasingly along the smooth metal before he gave the tip a rough tweak that had Brainstorm shivering so hard he almost crumbled to the floor. So _sensitive_ , he absolutely loved that about Brainstorm. 

“Easy,” He said around a smirk, his voice rough and laced with a little too much static, his grip tightening marginally. “I’ve got you,” 

Brainstorm’s reply was a little too slurred and broken with static for him to catch, but it didn't really matter. He was clearly loving it. 

The first time they had done this, neither had been in the right head-space. For Brainstorm, it’d been a long night cycle starting the bottom of a cube for a centuries worth of work not gone down the drain. As for himself? He had hoped the engex would smooth the brutal kick of reality as yet another Decepticon walked free without so much as a tap in the wrist. Though with every cube, the sting reached deeper.

He'd lost everything in the war, and for what? For the culprit to be given a chance to make amends, to redeem his name as the Captain of the Lost Light and Seeker of the Knights of Cybertron, He would have laughed if someone had told him he'd be following orders from Megatron. Oh wait, he had. Until, well, he realized it wasn't a joke. Megatron was here, in the metal, and few seemed bothered by the fact they were now led by the monster that'd run their race to edge of extinction.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be. This was not what _he_ had fought for. Fuck Megatron, fuck Rodimus and above all else, Optimus Prime.

They'd strayed from the path , twisted Primus' words and will to fit their own agenda. Someone had to do something - anything.

Getaway hadn’t meant for things to proceed the way they had, Brainstorm had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It hadn’t been pretty; he had been far too angry and far too eager to make the other bleed, figuratively _and_ literally.  Getaway should've felt a little guilty, Brainstorm was no fighter and it showed but _pit_ did he have spirit to make up for it; spirit and a big mouth to boot.

Getaway couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so good, so… light.The rational part of him knew just how messed up that was, yet another was aching to do it again as soon as he laid optics on the Engineer the following cycle. (Smiling, despite himself, at the slight limp in the jet’s walk.) He knew it couldn’t - _shouldn't_ \- happen again, but his frame had other ideas. He tried to ignore it at first but the more he did, the stronger, more insistent the charge grew and - and -

And Getaway had never been any good fighting his urges. Hhe could have gone to Atomizer, Skids, heck, even Tailgate. Primus knows, they’d be more than willing, but Getaway didn’t want them, he couldn’t - they - couldn’t give him what he wanted. So, despite his better judgement, he found himself going back to Brainstorm, and it  didn’t help matters that Brainstorm was remarkably easy to get into bed - _when_  Nautica, Nightbeat and Skids weren’t in the vicinity to beat him to the punch, that is. 

Once he had the jet to himself, it didn’t take long to take things where he wanted them. 

None of their encounters since had been as brutal as their first, but Getaway wasn’t complaining. Just having that compact, lithe body pinned under the bulk of his frame, hear the strain of his fans, to feel the racing pulse of his spark and the rush of his fuel in his hands was enough to drown him in euphoria.

Wiping Brainstorm’s memory had become routine, even when there were times like these where he just lost himself in the pleasure of Brainstorm’s warmth; where once they’d both reached completion, with another bot’s name coming out of Brainstorm’s lips in a strained sob, where they’d just rest together and bask in the afterglow with nothing but the low thrum of their sparks and the dying roars of their fans as background noise.

But no, he had a delicate thing going with Tailgate, and Brainstorm could easily mess it all up. He was already risking far too much by coming here.

He propped himself up on his elbow to thoroughly admire his handiwork, running a servo along Brainstorm’s side and tease at the exposed wires of his shoulders.

Getaway let out a long, mournful ex-vent. He was going to miss this.

 Pulling his gun out of subspace, he pressed the muzzle to the jet’s helm. Brainstorm made a strangled, confused sound, and his optics went wide and bright with dawning realization when they saw the gun. The mixed accusatory, betrayed look he fixed Getaway then gave the escapist pause.

 _Man_ , he really was going to miss this. 


End file.
